THE NORTH SEA.
The moments that followed were the most terrible that Jack had ever
known in his adventurous life at sea. Cast adrift in the dark night and
wild sea, he was at first completely bewildered. The very suddenness
with which the end of the _Barley Rig_ had come had benumbed him.
But ere long, the blind instinct of life asserted itself. He struck out,
hoping to find some wreckage with which to sustain himself, for in that
rolling, breaking sea, he could not have hoped to remain afloat long
without some support.
Wave after wave swept over the bravely battling lad, half choking him in
spite of the fact that he was an experienced and powerful swimmer.
"Great Scott!" he thought with dismay. "If I can't find some support to
cling to before long, I'm a goner. This is the worst ever."
In addition to the difficulty of fighting the baffling waves, Jack now
began to experience a fresh obstacle to keeping afloat. The weight of
the heavy money belt at his waist seemed to be drawing him remorselessly
down toward the depths.
At first, he had difficulty in accounting for the leaden feeling that
possessed him after being a short time in the water. But suddenly he
recalled the money belt with its weight of gold.
"I'll stick it out as long as I can," resolved the boy, "and then
unfasten the buckle and let the money sink."
A section of wreckage came within his grasp at that moment. He made a
wild grab for it, but a great wave swept it beyond his reach. He began
to feel numb and chilled and utterly incapable of battling for his life
much longer. An odd, reckless feeling of indifference came over him. His
movements became automatic, no longer consciously directed.
Suddenly he recollected the money belt that dragged at his body like a
leaden weight. He fumbled with the buckle with one hand while he trod
water. But the strap proved obdurate. His chilled fingers could not undo
it.
"It is the end," murmured the exhausted boy. "I'm all in, and can't keep
up the fight any longer."
A strange, dreamy sort of feeling crept over him. He felt the water
closing over his head. Then, suddenly he seemed to be dragged skyward.
His senses swam and he knew nothing more. When he opened his eyes, it
was daylight. He lay in the bottom of a small boat that was being tossed
about like a chip on the rough sea which, although it had moderated to
some extent, was still running high.
"Where on earth am I and what has happened?" he wondered in the first
few seconds of returning consciousness. "I remember that terrible
feeling that all was over, that I was drowning and----"
"Thank goodness you're all right again, old fellow."
"Bill!" cried the young wireless man wildly, as he recognized the voice,
"is that really you or your ghost? Am I dreaming or drowned?"
"Neither, I hope," rejoined Bill, helping his chum to raise himself in
the bottom of the boat, "but you came mighty near being the latter if I
hadn't providentially come within reach of you just in time."
"Thank heaven you did," replied Jack fervently, "but tell me, how did it
all happen? I don't understand. The last I can recollect is going under
and thinking that all was over."
"Which must have been just about the time I grabbed you by the hair and
got you on board somehow," continued Bill. "I don't know how I did it,
but I succeeded."
"But how did you come to be in the boat?" Jack wanted to know.
"Well, you see when we were both swept out of that cabin--I guess the
trawler must have been broken in half by the explosion,--when we were
both swept out, I didn't know what was happening and just struck out
blindly."
"Same here," observed Jack. "I was looking for a bit of wreckage to
float on, but none came my way."
"I don't know, though I guess I answer that description," chuckled Bill,
regarding himself with critical eyes. He was only half dressed, and the
few garments he had on, for it will be recalled that neither of the boys
had had time to dress, had been almost ripped from him. Nor was Jack in
any better plight.
"Anyhow," went on Bill, "the first thing I struck was this boat. It's
the small one that hung astern of the trawler. The explosion, which
struck about midships, I guess, hadn't harmed it and it must have torn
loose from its fastenings when the _Barley Rig_ sank. I clambered into
it and found it was half full of water. I managed, with an old tin
bucket, which luckily, hadn't been washed overboard, to bale it to some
extent, and--and then I heard you yell----"
"I don't remember crying out," interrupted Jack.
"Well, anyhow, you gave a good husky yowl and I glimpsed your head just
alongside. I hauled you aboard and laid you in the bottom of the boat
but I had not the least idea that it was you that I had the good fortune
to rescue till daylight. You can imagine how glad I was."
"But what are we going to do now? Have we oars?"
"No."
"Water?"
"No."
"Nor food?"
Bill shook his head.
"If we're not sighted and picked up we'll be in a bad fix, old fellow."
"I'm afraid so. I guess we're the sole survivors."
"Yes, poor fellows. One can't help feeling sorry even for that rascal
Hoeseason."
The boat, a small, not over tight ship's yawl, swung on the top of a
high wave. The boys eagerly took advantage of this to gaze out over the
crests of the tossing water-mountains.
But the heaving, steel-gray sea was vacant of life. All they could see
was a vast expanse of mighty rollers, desolate and cold under a leaden
sky. They exchanged blank looks.
"Bill, old fellow, we're up against it," came from Jack.
"Well, I've known times when things looked considerably brighter,"
admitted Bill dolefully.